Coffee and Cameras: Two Things That Roger Hates
by Ginger Glinda the Tangerine
Summary: Well, the title pretty much says it all... a little slice of boho life from Mark's POV. Naturally includes RogerMimi and MarkCamera! xP Rated for Roger's dirty mouth.


_A/N: So this is kinda random, but cute. I think. I wanted to experiment with writing from Mark's point of view in a slightly more serious way than with _Speed Dating_. Which, by the way, will be updated at some point in time... O.O Meanwhile, enjoy this!_

...

It appeared that Roger was being an asshole. I could tell, because Mimi had just slammed out of the loft without bothering to pick up her jacket on the way out. In a few seconds, Roger would either stomp up onto the roof or start to play a sulky Musetta's Waltz.

I dumped a spoonful of coffee into a relatively clean mug and waited to see which option he would pick. To my surprise, he did neither. Instead, he walked out of his room with a guilty, sheepish look adorning his features, and sat at the counter opposite me.

"I screwed up, didn't I?"

I blinked, poured some water that was only pretending to be boiled into my mug and offered it to Roger, who just stared angstily at the countertop. "I guess you did, man."

The man in question slammed his fist down angrily, causing the assortment of crumbs scattered across the counter to leap into the air. I made a mental note to film them doing that later.

"Damn it!" Roger growled. "Why am I such an asshole?"

I shrugged, and took a sip of the coffee, since he didn't seem to have registered it was there. It was probably one of the worse drinks I'd ever tasted, second only to the "cocktail" involving Captain Crunch Collins had made one time when he was stoned.

I spat into the sink, then tried, "It's not just you."

Roger scoffed. "Yeah, it is."

"So…" I raised an eyebrow, realising at the same time that there was probably a reason Roger rarely shared any of his relationship troubles with me. I mean, I'm no counsellor.

"Don't ask me why I do it," Roger warned, running a hand through his hair. "The point of this was that you were supposed to get all 'no day but today' and slap some sense into me so that I'd go down and apologise to Meems."

"If you already know what you need to do, why do you need me?" I pointed out wryly.

"Don't get complicated on me," Roger warned. "Are you gonna drink that?"

"All yours," I shrugged, pushing my mug across the counter. I briefly considered explaining why I wasn't drinking out of it, then decided against it and put my camera to my face."

"Close on Roger- "

"Fuck you, Marky."

"He fought with Mimi again."

"I mean it, dude."

"He doesn't seem to realise that the healthy way to conduct a relationship- "

"Not that you'd know anything about that."

"Usually doesn't involve tearing strips off your partner every time you see her."

"That thing doesn't even record _sound_!" Roger exploded. "What is it with you and your obsessive need to narrate all the time?"

I shrugged, panning away from him. "Someone's got to."

"Buy a tape recorder," Roger muttered disloyally, and sculled his coffee.

The lens of my camera picked up a movement behind the door to the loft, which wasn't quite closed. I squinted at it for a while, ignoring the stream of profanities Roger let out at the taste of the alleged "coffee".

The movement turned out to be Mimi, who lifted a finger to her lips when I opened my mouth to alert Roger to her presence.

"What the fuck was that shit made of?" Roger gasped.

"Beans," I told him.

"Beans are green," Roger pointed out, intelligently.

"Coffee beans, dumbass," I laughed. Through the gap between the door and the wall, I saw Mimi smother a giggle.

"Whatever," Roger slurred. "So I guess I should go talk to Mimi, right?"

I caught Mimi's eye while Roger contemplated the inside of his mug. She smiled knowingly and slipped away to her apartment. I took the mug away from Roger and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I think you should."

"Maybe she'll have some actual fucking coffee that isn't made out of fucking beans," said Roger, somewhat optimistically.

"Maybe," I deadpanned, refraining from explaining to him the process by which all coffee was made. With beans.

"Are you sure she'll…"

I put on my best reassuring expression, one which I've used a lot on Roger. "Roger, the girl is madly in love with you."

He blinked. "Oh. Okay then."

I watched him disappear out the door, deciding to give them ten minutes before the bedsprings started.

I was only wrong by three minutes. It appeared my estimation skills were improving.

...

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, I do own some stuff, but I don't own RENT rights. Sadly for all concerned..._

_Reviewers get coffee made especially for them by a virtual Mark!_


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